New Generation
by Darksource
Summary: Set in 2611. The UNSC has disbanded, and humanity has now split into multiple governments. One such government, the United Republic of North America has colonized a planet, known as Xidia, which has suffered a mysterious blackout. Follow Private Jones, a foul-mouthed URNA Marine with a bad record, as he is the first to re-discover humanity's old enemy.
1. Orbit

_Xidia._

_Yup, that's just what they called it. Third planet in the Rimadois system. 14,152 kilometers. 30 hours in a day. 602,325,200 in population. Basically for those who want to get away from Earth._

_It was colonized in 2579, after the Glados stumbled upon it. Building came along pretty fast. Hell, by '89, the capital was already built._

_After a while, they began to call it the "New Reach", since it was now the new military hub. Apparently, a Spartan like me wouldn't be able to see it, since I'm held up in this damn brig. _

_I completely fucked up over the years. Four demotions. Two medals._

_After all that, this is what I deserved. Been in here for twelve months. No Spartan should deserve this, but I did._

** ~_Jones. Four-Five-Eight._**

* * *

><p>A ship silently drifts in Xidia's orbit. "Ah. Another gift by our lords. Desecrated by the footsteps of the humans." A voice said, finishing with a growl as the ship set it's course for the planet.<p>

**November 11, 2611**

**06:24**

**UNSC Bossu, Xidia Low Orbit**

A ship silently drifts in Xidia's orbit. "Ah. Another gift by our lords. Desecrated by the footsteps of the humans." A voice said, finishing with a growl as the ship set it's course for the planet.

A D77 Pelican flies through space to a UNSC Halcyon-class Cruiser, known as the "Bossu". Radio chatter took place. "Pelican Echo 421. Sierra 458 onboard. Enroute to Bossu." The Pilot acknowledged, as the Pelican began to dock with the Cruiser in Deck 8. "Copy 421. You are cleared for landing in Deck 8. Over!" A navigator onboard the ship requested. It's troop bay opened, as a green-armored figure stepped out: Ensign Jones-458. "Alright Spartan, be ready. Might be some punks to get in my way." He spoke, walking over to an elevator. It ascended, as he gripped his wrists. As soon as the elevator reached it's destination, a door infront of him opened, revealing a corridor. Jones proceeded through it and through multiple doors and corridors. He eventually tangled himself up, "Ugh! Where the fuck is this Bridge?" He cursed. Jones had never been through the crew segments of a Halcyon-class Cruiser, only on the outer halfs.

Just when he thought he would never find the Bridge, a voice communicated with him, "Spartan-458. Follow these waypoints, please." It was that of an A.I., female, with a British accent. Jones entered a moment of silence, but snapped out of it when the voice cleared it's throat. He followed the navigation points, each one showing him the path to the Bridge. As he walked through corridors, Marines and Navy Crewmen who he approached quickly ran off, obviously scared of the news about him. Many personnel referred to Jones as "that bad-mouthed, mean green, obnoxious piece of shit that is Spartan-458", except for other Spartans of course, but they never said it out loud, so he would hear it.

Meanwhile, Jones eventually came to the Bridge. The Navy Officer before him turned to greet him; Nerash Elso. "Captain." The Spartan remarked. "Spartan-458, good to meet you." He introduced, as the two shook hands. Nerash was of African descent, and spoke with a sharp tone. "I've had ONI lift you from the brig for a special purpose, Ensign, and one that solely involves you. So listen up: Over fifteen hours ago, the Skilute Relay Outpost on the planet had recently went into a blackout. We suspect it was a major power failure or the local rebels; ONI goes with the latter on that one. Because of your past data, they believe sending you in is advisable."

"Me? Alone? Out of all the Spartans? Give me a fuckin' break. Why not Xander or...Joana?" Jones cursed. "You'll have a Marine Fireteam with you. We just need you to go in, report your findings, and if you can, get the power back on. We've had reports about an unknown ship at around an hour before this all occurred, this lead us to suspections. I surely hope this problem is not what we think it is."

"I'll do my best." Jones agreed.

"After this operation, you will be placed into a cryo tube to-"

"A cryo tube? What did I do now?"

Nerash sighed. "To CHECK your augmentations. We want to identify if you are a true Spartan and not a Pirate."

"Pirate? I don't understand."

"I'm sure you know about the Spartan training riot, in 2586? Over ninety trainees. Haven't heard from them since. It's just six years, Ensign. Anyways, on this mission, you'll be accompanied by your new assistant A.I."

A holo-panel next to Nerash lit up, as Jones turned his attention towards it. Eventually, the avatar of a woman in a large white gown appeared. "Spartan...meet Heartless Winter."

"Insurrectionists are getting more and more tideous. It's a wonder they hate us now." The A.I. looked at a viewscreen showing a map of the Gizza region on Xidia, then turned towards the Spartan. "Did you get lost?" She joked, smiling, "She's fresh out of production, so go easy on her." Nerash soon pulled a data chip out, and handed it to the Spartan. "Good luck, Spartan." He said, handing Jones the data chip, and inserted it into the back of his helmet.

"You have the statistics of another honorary Spartan."

"Not exactly."

"Head to the armory and load yourself up, son. And when you're ready, head back to Deck 8 and Echo 421 will be waiting to transport you there." Jones nodded, and left the Bridge, then came to the Armory. Stacked amongst the racks were MA5C's and M6L USP's. Jones grabbed one of each. "I'm missing-" He started, before he was cut off. "Grenades? They're all gone. We'd best be heading to the Pelican." Heartless Winter informed. Jones agreed, and headed towards Deck 8.

When he arrived, he slowed down, and walked slowly to board the Pelican. His Marine Support Fireteam was already onboard. It's troop bay doors closed, as it departed for Xidia.


	2. Unexpected guests

The Pelican flew over the large body of water that is the Shian Sea. Jones stared off, then turned to the four Marines - Jamenson, Beckford, Dixon, and Klump - who were conversing with eachother.

"Hey, Dickie. You know what I think?" Private Klump asked.

"I don't care." Lance Corporal Dixon said back.

"I think it was them Innies who did it."

"The rebels? Can you be any more senseless? Their presence isn't even that strong on Xidia."

"It was probably those crazy children. Who do you think it was, Becky?"

"Well, no one knows, and no one gives a shit." Corporal Beckford joined in.

"Honestly, I've got a scary feeling about this."

"Scary? You don't need to be "scared" of anything, besides, we've got a Spartan here with us. "Scared" never exists when one of them are around."

Jones looked at Klump, Beckford, and Dixon, who chuckled at him. "Idiots..." He mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, stooges. Cut the chatter and stay focused." Sergeant Jamenson cut in. Unlike the personnel on the Bossu, these Marines didn't express any fear in him.

The Skilute Relay Outpost came into sight, "We're approaching LZ." The Pilot acknowledged, turning the Pelican's troop bay towards the landing pad. "Go, go go! Move it, Marines. Get that outpost back online." Jones raised his MA5C, and slowly entered, followed by the Marines. This first corridor was illuminated by dimmed lights, so Jones and the Marines activated their flashlights. Heartless Winter began briefing, "Okay, with the power in the deeper areas turned off, you'll have to head for the emergency generator room and turn it back on manually. But first, head for the lock controls."

The team scanned the area, and moved into the next room. This one was littered with bodies of technicians, with blood-stained and scarred walls. "Goddamn." Jones cursed. The Marines started to get tideous, especially Klump. "Something's not right. This couldn't have been rebels, this has to be the-" Dixon started, but was cut off by Beckford. "Don't you say it!" He snapped. "Come on. Who else could it have been? The critters?" Jamenson intervened. "That's enough!" He ordered. Heartless Winter began scanning. "Hmm...those burns, they look like they were done by directed energy. Marines, hold your positions, we'll check it out. Keep searching, Ensign."

The Marines held position, as Jones moved through corridors, and came to a U-shaped corridor. "I'm reading heat signatures in the hall ahead." Heartless Winter warned. It was here that Jones noticed a short, stubby figure quickly running off. "What was that thing?" He questioned. "I'm not sure. Follow it." Heartless Winter provided. Jones did so, and proceeded down this U-shaped hall. It lead to a door that was closing, with Jones catching a glimpse of the figure's legs. He moved closer, slowly, and the door automatically opened. "This looks like the lock control room. Try that lever right there." Jones walked up to the lever against the wall, dropped his Assault Rifle, and turned the lever with both hands. "Good. Now we could access the deeper parts."

The lights flickered briefly, while screams and gunfire were heard. Jones rushed back to the fireteam, Assault Rifle in hand. The fireteam was intact; the walls were littered with bullet holes with the addition of casings on the floor. "Damnit, where'd his ass go?" Jamenson came out, slowly. "What the hell is going on here?" Dixon said. "I take it back. Let's get this generator back on and get the hell out of here." Klump cried. Jones went through the door, and came to a lightened corridor. A puddle was expanding from a leak coming from a pipe, and there were more corpses.

As Jones moved in, the door slammed shut, separating him from Beckford, Klump, Jamenson, and Dixon. "Hey...hey! What the hell man?" Klump cursed. The Marines banged on the door. "What the hell's going on!" Beckford cried. "Calm down, Marines. It's just a fault, surely. The Spartan will find a way to f-" Jamenson's sentence was cut off by static, followed by the corridor's lights going off. "Shit. Knocked out our comms too." Jones murmured. "This is the passage to the generator room. Be careful, I'm getting more heat signatures." Jones moved slowly down this darkened corridor, carefully gripping his weapon. "Okay. Whoever you are, wherever you are, come out your little hiding place." He taunted. After a turn down the corridor, he came to a circular room, with three separated doors. The center door had a blinking light sign over it labeled "**Generator**" appeared. This door was open, and there was another, much taller figure standing there. It soon slammed shut.

"Ensign, you've got movement! Converging on your position now!"

"Marines, if you read me, stay alert. I'm about to be flanked."

The left and right doors opened, and out came familiar figures. They were small bipedal, orange armored arthoropods, 5'6 in height. "What the hell are those?" Jones said. "Analyzing...Designation "Unggoy", classified "Grunts". Minor class. They're a pushover for a Spartan." Heartless Winter explained. The Grunts wielded Plasma Pistols, firing at Jones as his shields flared. He, unfortunately, was confused. "What are you waiting for? Return fire." Jones did so, firing at one group of the Grunts, managing to easily mow them down. "Heh. Little bastards. They ain't so tough." The second group of Grunts began tossing Plasma Grenades at him. "Ah shit." He cursed, narrowly avoiding them, but their splash damage knocked his shields out. "Take cover, quickly." Heartless Winter advised. Jones took cover behind a box, allowing his shields to recharge, then equipped his M6L. He charged out and killed the last group of Grunts with headshots.

After clearing this circular room, the Generator room door opened, with the previously seen figure standing infront of the door. "This guy's bigger." Jones said. "Designation "Jiralhanae", classified "Brutes". Also Minor class. You may need to take out his Power Armor first." Heartless Winter explained for the second time. The Brute fired a Spiker, which impaled the walls, and hit Jones, but his shields protected him. In return, he reloaded his MA5C and fired it directly into the Brute, easily destroying the Power Armor, and proceeded to finish it with the M6L. "Think twice before you copy us, bitch." He taunted.

In the Generator room, Jones flipped a lever, but nothing happened. "So, it's busted?" He questioned. "No, I estimate thirty minutes until the power comes back on." Jones sighed, leaned against the wall, and rested his head on his arm.

* * *

><p>The power came back on, with sparks coming from the panel. Jones came back to attention, noticing his arm was touching a spike that was enlodged into his armor. He pulled it out, dropping it. Eventually, radio chatter began flooding his COM's, as a rumble took place. He looked up at a small window in the cieling, and overlooked a ship fly over; the same one that was at the darker end of Xidia in orbit. The ship, along with the previously encountered infantry, belonged to a coalition that the humans expected not to encounter fifty-eight years ago. It was the faction that worshipped an ancient race, and destroyed many of the UNSC's valuable colonies.<p>

It was the Covenant.


End file.
